


Life Fulfilled

by QuickLikeLight



Series: Scott McCall Appreciation Collection [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Shorts, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Collection of Gen / T-Rated Sciles Ficlets, pulled from my Tumblr and edited for posting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Huddle, Cuddle

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in response to the prompt "please write me a fic of stiles and scott spooning," [here](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com/post/90462929166/findananchor-please-write-me-a-fic-of-stiles).

“What are you even  _doing_  here?” Stiles groaned, pulling the blankets up over his head. “Close the window, it’s fucking cold." 

Scott slid the pane down, latching it in place. "I’m sorry. I know it’s late…" 

"It’s fine,” Stiles sighed, pulling one edge of the blanket up. “You being here, that is. Supes keeping you out ‘til three in the morning is not fine. The fucking cold is not fine." 

"You know Derek needs me, Stiles,” Scott whined, toeing off his shoes. He slipped gingerly out of his muddy jeans, pulled his t-shirt off without hesitation. “He’s struggling. I’m his Alpha. I need to be there for him." 

"What about  _my_  struggle?" 

Scott laughed. "Your struggle? What are you struggling with?" 

"It’s cold in my room, and my hot werewolf boyfriend is hanging out with Broody McScaryBrows until three in the morning.” Stiles harrumphed, turning his back toward the window, toward Scott. “The struggle is real.”

“Oh, you’re cold? You hadn’t mentioned it,” Scott teased, climbing into the bed behind him. He wrapped his body around Stiles’, sliding an arm under his pillow, easing the other around Stiles’ waist. One of his knees slid automatically between Stiles’ legs, tangling their bodies together easily, familiar and constant. 

“I miss you,” Stiles said quietly, voice barely rippling the stillness of the air. “You’re so busy with the pack, and that’s good, you should be, but… I miss my best friend. It’s stupid but-" 

"Stiles,” Scott nosed gently at the nape of Stiles’ neck, comforting him with lips and nuzzles and warm breath. “I miss you too. And this will be over soon." 

"And then?” Stiles turned in his arms, flailing slightly, pressing their foreheads together. Scott leaned forward, pressing a kiss to that perfect cupid’s bow. 

“Derek will be better soon. And then, I’m all yours." 

"Well,” Stiles smirked, “You’re kind of always all mine." 

"Life fulfilled." 


	2. All My Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Space Odyssey AU, originally posted [here](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com/post/93136708826/scott-stiles-if-you-still-do-it-with-the-number).

“Stiles, buddy, come on, come on, we gotta make it back to the ship okay? Just a bit further!” Scott huffed and puffed as he dragged the lanky body of his best friend and sometimes-pilot out of Tavern-894b7. 

“He wuz,” Stiles slurred stupidly. “Zat guy, he wuz… he in- insulted you!” He flailed dramatically, almost throwing himself out of Scott’s arms. Behind them, Scott could hear the bouncer trying to hold back the Tzaran 4 native that Stiles had tossed his drink all over. It did not sound like it was going well. 

“Stiles, damn it, if you get our asses kicked by that blue-skinned turkey brain, I am going to die, and leave you here to pay off Nora by yourself." 

"You  _wouldn’t_!” Stiles gasped, getting his feet under him a bit to help propel them forward. “You could never-“

"Fine, fine, I would never leave you, I will outlive you by thousands of years, I’ll still be young and beautiful when you finally get your ass handed to you by an angry native, whatever, just **_run_**!" 

By the time they got Nora into the upper atmosphere, Scott was covered in a full-body flush and he couldn’t keep his sideburns retracted, and Stiles had poured an entire travel can of water over his head. 

"That was a close one,” Stiles grinned as he flipped on their deep space nav board. He held out for two whole minutes before he was wracked with hysterical laughter, sliding out of his seat onto the floor of the bridge. Scott glared grimly at the steering column and spoke through his teeth: 

“Next time you pull a stunt like that, I’m hitching a ride out with Lydia." 

"Out of town?” Stiles giggled, crawling between Scott’s knees. Scott kissed him on the forehead and then bit his cheek, hard.

“Out of the fucking system, asshole." 


	3. What's my Line?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Stage Acting AU

"Line!"

Stiles huffed. His face burned with a combination of anger and heat from the stage lights. Jackson had called for line three times in this scene alone, and rehearsal had already gone on an hour longer than it should have. Nevermind that he’d had his own lines down weeks ago; opening night was a week away, and there was no way this total idiot was going to be ready.

Scott read the line off dutifully from his spot in the light booth, his sweet, clear voice rolling out over the speaker system, radiating annoyance.

"JACKSON!" Director Finstock yelled, aggravated. "You’re playing the lead!"

" _ONE OF_ the leads!" Stiles interrupted. Finstock talked right over him.

"We open in a week! That’s seven days! Do you know how many hours that is? I don’t, but -"

"168," Stiles interjected again, arms crossed over his chest.  

"STILINSKI BE QUIET UNLESS YOU ARE SAYING YOUR LINES, AND THEN PROJECT LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!" Finstock slammed his half-full coffee cup down on his director’s table, sloshing lukewarm brew all over his notes. " _FUCK_!"

"Finny, I just think the scene’s too long," Jackson complained. "It’s dragging. If we just cut this bit here -"

"Oh, you mean basically all of our character development?" Stiles spit back.

"No one’s coming here to see character development, Stilinski. They come to see me." Stiles rolled his eyes, mimed gagging. A quick flash of blue light swept over them and Stiles grinned up toward the booth.

"Director," Scott cut in politely. Danny had flipped on the lights in the booth and Stiles grinned at his best friend’s face smiling through the glass. "Would you like us to start from the line or the top of the scene?"

"Top of the scene, from Stilinski’s entry. And Jackson… if you flub a line, McCall’s gonna be the one they all come to see."  

"Like that’s gonna happen," Jackson muttered, flipping through his script aimlessly. "There isn’t even a show without me."

"Scott would be better than your ham-handed ass," Stiles complained, trying to resettle into character. Backstage, Heather shot him an encouraging smile.

"You’re doing so well Stiles. I’d never know it was your first big show."

"Don’t say that too loudly," Stiles groaned. "My scene partner will, again, assume he’s to credit for that."

She patted him gently on the arm and then offered him a mint. "This is the kissing scene, yeah? Need some help?"

Stiles grimaced and popped the mint. "I should just kiss him with coffee breath, honestly. He deserves it. And he’s a terrible kisser, so-"

Heather thrust her walkie-talkie into his face, thumb pressed over the call button. Stiles cut off abruptly and grabbed the walkie-talkie.

"You okay down there, buddy?" Scott said quietly over the line.

"He was ranting again," Heather laughed, pulling the walkie down to her mouth. Stiles switched it to his left hand, rolling his eyes at her.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. He’s just…"

"An asshole," Scott finished. Stiles could hear the smile in his voice, struggled to keep his heartbeat under control. "Don’t worry. This is your scene. You own that stage. Go get it."

"I got it, Scotty. You get to memorizing Jackson’s lines. I have a feeling you’re going to need them."

 

-X-

 

Opening night, two hours from curtain call, Stiles paced nervously in the costume shop, wringing his hands.

"Stiles, it’s okay," Heather soothed, headset already on to talk to Danny in the booth. "I’m calling the cues from right here. Alli is going to open the box office in about fifteen minutes. Scott is going to be fine. We have him covered. And if he forgets his lines -"

"He’s had the lines memorized since the third week of rehearsals, he’s not going to forget his lines." Stiles tangled his fingers together, worrying at the soft skin around his nail beds. Heather sighed and clapped her hands on his shoulders.

"What are you so worried about, then, sweetie Stie?"

Stiles cringed and laughed at the ancient nickname, a reminder that Heather had known him just as long as Scott had. "It’s nothing, really -"

"Which is why you’re wearing a hole in my carpeting," Lydia remarked offhandedly, grabbing a rolling rack of costumes to move out into the hall.

"I’d like to wear a - wait, that’s - ugh, I can’t even innuendo right." Stiles slumped back against the counter, defeated.

"Thank God," Lydia and Heather said in unison.

"Guys," he snapped.

"Girls, actually," Lydia snapped back, and then, "Is this about the kissing scene?"

Stiles scuffed his feet.

"The kissing scene with your best friend, which you have apparently not rehearsed?"

Stiles scuffed harder.

"The kissing scene with your best friend that you’ve been secretly, desperately in love with since the night he and Kira broke up a year ago and he called you drunk and told you that you were pretty?"

All the fucking scuffing, man.

"Quit that before you really do wear it out," Lydia sighed. She and Heather exchanged a look.

"Because, if it was about a kissing scene that you have not rehearsed with your best friend that you are desperately in secret love with, you might find a last minute rehearsal space full of suddenly-leading-actor out on the smoking deck. If you were looking for that."

"And… ah - well, you know, what I’m asking is -"

"If Scott is also ruining his shoes and looking like a complete idiot?" Lydia smirked, examining her perfect seafoam nail polish.

"Ah. Well, yes. That. I’d like to know that." Stiles’ face turned about eight shades of red. Heather rubbed a comforting hand over his shoulder blade.

"He’s been freaking out since Tuesday."

Stiles felt himself grinning, and spun in place in a little celebratory dance before he realized there were multiple ways to freak out about kissing your best friend. He froze.

" _Yes_ because he wants to kiss you, you big dumb loser. Now go!"

Stiles flailed and fumbled out of the costume shop, slick shoes skidding as he got out into the tiled hallway. In the distance he could hear Heather shouting, "IF YOU GIVE EACH OTHER STUBBLE BURN BEFORE MAKE UP ERICA IS GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Stiles grinned. Totally worth it.

 

 


	4. Enough Room for Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adopting a Pet

“A cat? You hate cats. You’re _allergic_ to cats.” Stiles scrunches his nose, holding tightly to the flop-eared puppy in his hands. 

“I’m not allergic to anything now that I’m a _werewolf_ ,” Scott whispers, too loud, and nods toward the sedate older lady cat lounging on one of the shelter couches. “She looks nice. And super low maintenance. She’d keep you company while you do your homework, make sure you went to bed on time… she probably doesn’t even eat that much, and a puppy would be so much work, you know? Just, a _lot_ …" 

"You’re trying to get a pet that will Mom me. That’s what this is. You’re momming me, and we haven’t even officially moved in together yet." 

Scott looked vaguely pained and guilty at the same time. "It’s just… night classes are going to take so much time, and I won’t be around to make sure you take care of yourself, and…and she looks like she could use a home, you know, older cats don’t get adopted that often, and…" 

Stiles sighed gustily but smiled anyway. "Hush. We’re getting them both. Now take me home before I adopt that turtle over there too." 

”….It is a really cute turtle.“ 


	5. Partners in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Night in Jail

“I don’t think he’s gonna let us out, man." 

"He has to,” Stiles pressed his forehead to the bars of the holding cell, yelling into the empty room beyond. “DAD! COME ON MAN! LET US OUT! IT WAS A JOKE!" 

"I really don’t think he’s going to let us out, so you might as well just come sit down.” Scott sighed and huddled tighter under his hoodie. “Please? It’s cold." 

Stiles gave in, trudging over and sliding down the wall next to Scott until their knees touched, just barely. 

"He probably shouldn’t let us out, if he ever wants to get her to go out with him again.”

“Well he shouldn’t have tried dating anybody but your mom,” Stiles grumped, burying his face in Scott’s neck. “Don’t care if it’s weird dude. They’re like. Made for each other." 

"You mean like us?” Scott laughed, shifting the hoodie so that it covered them both. 

“Yeah. Like us." 


	6. Jim's Books & Boards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday is Comic Book Day

Most of their time is pretty tight – between classes and part time jobs and Scott’s service fraternity and Stiles’ Friday Night Raid, they don’t end up having as much time together as they expected to, even since they moved in together. They scrape together hours, mostly after the sun has gone down and the homework is done and they're both too tired to do anything other than sprawl on the couch with Netflix playing quietly in the background, too worn out to even talk. Stiles tries not to mind. He knows it won't always be like this, and that eventually they'll wish for these carefree days where all they had to worry about was a Sigma Chi Alpha meeting or another broken lunch date because of an impromptu study group. Still, he wants more time with Scott. He wishes every day could be Wednesday.

Wednesdays are theirs. He meets Scott at the clinic, picking him up on the curb and wolf-whistling as Scott stretches to climb into the Jeep, making him laugh and flush a pretty red. They drive down the county line road listening to pop punk on blast, wind in their hair and sun on their skin, until they pull into the slightly dated shopping center where Jim’s Books & Boards is tucked into a corner, between a mattress store and a Bath and Body Works. 

Jim (who is actually a guy named Daniel, but he wears a “Hello, My Name Is James T. Kirk” t-shirt every Wednesday, like it’s a uniform) greets them by wordlessly pulling a stack of their favorite weeklies from under the counter, bagging and boarding them all without question. Whoever got paid last buys the books, since they read all the same titles anyway. Scott still tries branch out into the literary fiction section of the graphic novels sometimes, looking for something without any costumed crusaders in it. 

“You always end up disappointed.” Stiles shrugs as Scott thumps one up on the counter. 

“I liked  _Blankets_ ,” Scott reminds him. “ _Black Hole_  was amazing, you said so yourself." 

"Yeah, well, none of them are as good as the new  _Ms. Marvel_ ,” Stiles shrugs again, like he’s not watching with lit-up eyes when Scott thumbs through  _Mouse Guard_  Volume 1.

The drive home is always tough for Stiles, because he can’t wait to get his hands on those books, but he can’t drive and read at the same time. Scott teases him, nosing through various titles and dropping “Wow"s and "Ughhhh"s and "Oh fuck"s until Stiles isn’t sure if he’s reading comics or jacking off. 

Usually when he’s jacking off there’s more _"Stiles please”_ involved, so that helps differentiate some.

When they finally make it home, Scott takes off with the bag, racing Stiles up the stairs so he can get the prime spot on the bed, up near the pillows where the sunshine is the warmest. Stiles scrambles after him, but it’s no use; he loses Scott somewhere around the landing and doesn’t catch up until he’s throwing himself, winded, across Scott’s back. 

“Share,” he demands, wriggling until he blankets Scott completely, pressing the wolf’s face down into the pillows a little. Scott clutches at the comics harder, giggling. 

“Magic words,” Scott grunts, muffled.

Stiles leans in, mouth just a hair’s breadth from Scott’s ear, and whispers, “If you let me read  _Young Avengers_  first, I’ll go down on you while you read the new Cap run." 

He should have specified he wasn’t planning to move until he was done reading, but… well. Scott should be fine with it in twenty minutes or so. He's a fast reader, and besides -

It's Wednesday, that magical day of the week when everything is comics and sunshine and _Scott_ , and he has all of them for as long as he wants. 

 


	7. First of Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A First Date

It’s so odd for Scott to get up into the passenger seat of the Jeep with Stiles holding the door open for him. 

“Stiles I’ve been in this Jeep almost as much as you have, I know how the doors work.” 

“Shut up, Scott, I’m nervous okay?”

They go to the one nice-ish restaurant in town, a cliched Italian place with expensive pasta dishes and house dressing that his mom orders by the quart to take home whenever they go there, and it feels brand new walking in with Stiles, even though they’ve eaten here for Scott’s birthday at least twice (three times, if you count the time they came for just dessert). Scott holds Stiles’ seat out for him, and Stiles rolls his eyes but grins anyway, and it’s weird and good and everything he hoped for when he asked “Do you think -?” and Stiles said, “God, finally.” Their feet tangle under the table, comfortable and easy, but their hands fidget in their laps while the waitress takes their order. 

“You two gonna want dessert, or you gonna get that somewhere else?” she asks, twinkle in her eye. Scott can feel himself blushing bright red as he covers his face with his hands. Stiles can’t seem to pick his jaw up off the table long enough to make a smart remark, and _wow_ , is he grateful.  

The date ends too soon – when they pull into Scott’s driveway he expects Stiles to just follow him up, not walk to his door with his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his khakis, toes pressed awkwardly to the doormat that’s been on the front porch since they were twelve. 

“Had a good time tonight,” Scott says, half-choking on the ridiculousness of it all, of saying that to  _Stiles_ , of  _getting_  to say that to Stiles. 

“Hey,” Stiles says back, scuffing his foot against Scott’s. “I did too. Uh. A really good time.” 

Scott surges forward, clumsy and brave and awkward and good, and Stiles catches him in strong arms and a laughing mouth, kissing like nothing in the wild can hurt them.


	8. Phone a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: “I’ve agreed to be your roommate, not your booty call.”
> 
> Content Warning for Drunkenness.

“Scotty –!” Stiles’ voice was slurred over the phone, and Scott rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help the way his face cracked into a grin anyway. 

“Where are you? I’m on my way, just let me get some pants on.” He struggled into his sweats, phone clenched between his shoulder and his ear. 

“You don’t need ‘em!” Stiles cried. An abrupt crackle forced Scott to pull the phone away from his head, glaring. 

“You there McCall?” Boyd’s voice was hard to hear over the street noise. 

“Yeah, s’me. Where’s he at? I’m leaving the house now.” 

“You’re not going to be pleased about this.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Scott laughed tiredly as he pulled up to the curb in front of Dexie’s Dancehaus, watching Boyd drag a struggling, drunken Stiles out onto the street. He opened the door and made way for Boyd to maneuver Stiles inside. 

“Sorry about this, Scott. Erica was supposed to keep an eye on him tonight.” 

“He’s a big boy,” Scott shrugged. “Eventually he’ll get tired of waking up still drunk.” 

“You sure?” Boyd quirked an eyebrow, but Scott just laughed. 

“Thanks for getting me, Scotty,” Stiles pawed at him from the passenger’s seat as they drove home. “A pick up  _and_  a blowjob? Best friend ever.”

“Stiles, I agreed to be your roommate, not your booty call,” Scott giggled, swatting at Stiles’ hands. 

Stiles nodded, already well on his way to passing out. “S’cool. I’ll convince you someday.” 

Scott waited until he was sure Stiles was asleep to brush his hair off his face, lingering just a moment. “Maybe you already have.” 

 


	9. The Merits of Sweeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That Coffee Shop AU

“Uh, hey, um. Allison? I think. I think you should probably come up here? I know it’s early but - well, there’s this guy here and… I dunno, he’s asleep, I don’t really want to wake him up but you know, it’s your store so… anyway, call me back okay? Bye. Oh, it’s Stiles. Bye.”

Stiles stared at the huddled form under the big breakfast table for long minutes, willing it to move. Willing him to move. “It” was probably kind of rude. And it - he? - didn’t  _look_  like a girl, so… 

The alarm on his phone blared and Stiles accidentally juggled it for a moment before he could get it turned off. Okay. Fifteen until open and this… person… was still here. 

And the floor still needed to be swept. Of course.

The broom swished too loudly over the tile as Stiles swept, eyes glued to the red-hooded bundle on the floor. He did the rest of the store as quickly as he could, but there was no use. He was going to have to wake the dude up. 

“Hey, uh…” Stiles reached out with the broom, poking gently at the bundle in what he hoped was a shoulder-sort of region. 

“Oh whoa hey!” the bundle woke with a start, sitting up too fast and bonking his - definitely a guy - _oh no_ a _cute_ guy - head on the underside of the table. “ _Ouch_. Owwww. Ouch. Okay. Ah. Ow.” 

“Oh, god, dude, you okay?” Stiles offered him a hand up, broom forgotten on the floor. 

“Thanks. Sorry. Uh. Who…?” 

“You’re in Argent’s Patisserie. I’m not sure how you got in, actually, but…” Stiles trailed off awkwardly as Cute Red Hood straightened up and looked at him with wide brown eyes. 

“Oh geez, you must be an employee. I’m so sorry! I live upstairs. I locked myself out of my apartment on accident while I was going to change out my laundry in the basement, but Alli leaves the shop door unlocked for me sometimes because I stock the breakroom fridge so -” 

“Wait. You’re the empanadas guy?!” Stiles exclaimed, flailing so hard he hit himself in the cheek with the broom handle. “Ow. Geez.” 

“Ha, we sort of match now,” Red Hood smiled, rubbing feebly at his own head. “Uh, yeah, I’m empanadas guy. Alli mostly calls me Scott.” 

“Mostly? What else does she call you?”

“Oh, you know. Best Friend Forever, Most Awesome Guy I Know,” Scott flushed and dipped his head before continuing, “Uh. Single?” 

Stiles wavered momentarily, unsure exactly how hard he’d hit himself with that broom, before just going for it. “Allison calls me single too. And Stiles. You can call me whatever you want as long as you… ya know. Call me.”

“Smooth, Stiles,” Allison Argent clapped sarcastically from the front door. “And I'm sure Scott wasn’t any better. Made for each other. Now, since I’m here, somebody better bring me some coffee and empanadas.”  

“On it,” the said together. 

Allison groaned. 

 


	10. A Green Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he opens his eyes again, the whole world is green, and a memory of amber.
> 
> Content Warning for Major Character Death and offscreen implied suicide and/or reckless endangerment ending in death (take your pick), immediately followed by adventures in the Afterlife.

“Scott - Scotty, no, please Scott no -”

His pack is close. The pain is… minimal. It had been bright and harsh and quick, and then it wasn’t, for the first time in years really, and that - well, it’s nice. His thoughts feel fuzzy, disconnected, like the comfortable mess of scattered dreams that happens just upon waking. Or, in this case, falling asleep. 

Stiles’ voice is so far away, though, so much further than it should be - enough that he wants to fight the pull of the current, drag himself back to the sound like he has time and again. Scott forces his eyes to open - just a crack, just enough to see Stiles’ face, see the way his eyes brighten and his forehead smoothes out in something like relief.

“That’s it, come on, hey,” Stiles’ voice drops to a whisper, hard to make out over the rushing in his ears, like wind through the trees. “Come back now okay? It’s - it’s over, you did it, again. You can come back now.”

Tears that cling to Stiles’ eyelashes give up on their tenuous hold, splash down to bathe his skin, preparing him for the tomb. He wonders absently if anyone else would consider them perfumed, or if that is twenty years of devotion drowning him in Stiles’ scent.

“S’ -” he tries, lips numb with cold and tasting of copper. Stiles shakes his head, hushing, holding, but Scott just tries again. It is what he does. Soon, it will be what he did. “S’done. Go - you can go home. Safe now.”

He hadn’t realized that draining the Nemeton would mean pouring himself out as well, but he should have. Of course, even if he had -

Would he have chosen differently?

“Scott - Scott no, listen, you have to - fight it Scott, you can do it, please? Fight it for me. Scotty please you know I can’t - I can’t do it if you aren’t -  _Scott no, please, come on, I love you, I love you Scott, I can’t do it without you, I - Scott_ \- Scott - ?” 

 

When he opens his eyes again, the whole world is  _green_ , and a memory of amber.

The trees tower around him, as unalike anything from home as they can be and still be trees. The forest floor is warm and covered in needles - like pine, but with a different smell, something sweeter and more astringent at the same time. It makes him think of the incense his tía, Morena, used to burn sometimes when she said his head needed airing out. The memory makes him smile - makes him wonder if she’s here, somewhere, among the trees, or if this is a place made just for wolf boys.

He feels a lightness welling up inside as he gets up from the ground, dusts his hands off on clothes he never wore but still recognizes. He can’t make out the sun through the trees, but there’s a light coming from a distance, illuminating the forest and creating patches of shadow, too - light and dark, coexisting, too harmonious to be the world he came from.

This is it, he thinks. He laughs, too full of all this - something - to keep it in, relishes saying the words out loud: “This is the place.”

“Any idea where it is?”

Stiles’ voice behind him is shocking. It is not as shocking as it should be. Scott turns, slow and careful, hope and fear warring with themselves and each other in his gut.

“Stiles - you - you didn’t -”

“Told you,” Stiles shrugs.

“Told me?” He can’t help that he goes a little screechy, a little over the top. It’s just like Stiles to do this, to - to be here, when he should be there, growing and helping and living.

“Won’t do it without you. Now, which way do we go?”

“Stiles, your dad - Lydia, Malia - the pack? You just - you left them there - and -?” His chest aches for the losses he knows the others were suffering, the way they’ll mourn him and Stiles together, as a unit - both lost to the last battle in different ways.

In the same way, maybe. Ultimately.

“Do we have directions, or is this some sort of… I dunno - purgatory? Do we just walk indefinitely until we find our way out?”

“Stiles, would you just -”

“What did you expect me to do, Scott?” Stiles’ face is screwed up like he’s in pain, and it reminds Scott that this is probably the first time since he got the bite that he doesn’t hurt somewhere, under his skin.

“I expected you to stay,” he says. The weightlessness he felt is still there, but hovering at the edges is a dark thing, a heavy thing, and he tries to pull it closer even as he wants to push it away. “I thought… I was leaving them with someone. Someone who’d care for them.”

“You did,” Stiles assures him, hands out, placating. “They have each other. They have Derek, and Braeden. Lydia, Malia, and Kira take care of each other. Mason and Liam will be okay, and Brett and Hayden will help. Tracy’s probably better at taking care of herself than any of us. That wasn’t - Scott, that was never going to be me. But they all have someone to care for them anyway. You did fine.”

He’s right, is the thing. Scott knows he is - Stiles knows the pack as well as he does, knows all the ways they fit together, knows all the ways they can be torn apart. And after years of it, of time and tyrants trying them over and over, Stiles is here on this side with him. 

“You were the one without someone to take care of you,” Stiles says, quieter now, and Scott can’t help the laugh it startles out. Stiles smiles at him. “What, was I just going to let you go off into the unknown without me? You’ll get yourself killed.” 

“I already did,” Scott corrects, dragging a hand over his face. “I killed the Nemeton and I died too. You weren’t actually supposed to be a part of that, you know?”

“Well, you know. Where you go, I go.” Stiles spins around, checking out their surroundings. “So, like I said, do you know where we’re going?”

Scott shrugs, looking into the distance. He should be angry, he thinks - should be mad at Stiles for following him here, when he had a chance to stay there. He can’t though. 

“I’ve never made it this far before,” Scott says, a little apologetic. In all the times he’s died, apparently this was the only one that was going to take. 

“Never - ?” 

“Before, when I…”  _Came alone_. 

Stiles lips find his before the rest of his sentence does, and he doesn’t know if he has to breathe here, but it feels like fresh air.

“Should - should have done that sooner,” Scott says, when he gets his bearings back. “Probably could have avoided the argument.”

“You’re the one who hates conflict,” Stiles laughs, pulling him in with both arms around his shoulders, knocking their foreheads together so gently, Scott almost can’t feel it at all. 

“Why’d you wait?” He knows why he did - why it always felt like a step too far, back there. But then, could anything be too far after the step Stiles already took?

“Significantly less to lose here, I guess,” Stiles shrugs, and his smile is brighter than the light.

“Then let’s lose it again,” Scott suggests, mouth already halfway to Stiles’.

 


	11. Distracted Driving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For SS88 who was having a rough day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex and spanking mentions.

It’s the summer after graduation and Scott and Stiles are going to spend the entire thing in the preserve, on the banks of the lake, or in the Jeep on their way to the beach.

They keep a tent and a bag of clothes in the back - they just share, no reason not to when it’s so easy, so convenient. They disappear for days at a time, checking in with their parents and the pack by text message. It’s the most free time they’ve had in years and they’re going to enjoy every second of it.

Stiles drives down the highway while Scott sleeps peacefully in the passenger seat, skin browned and salt-kissed from their day at the ocean. His hair is wild and fluffy - he hasn’t cut it since before school ended, and it’s the perfect length for Stiles to bury his hands in. He can’t while he drives - he loves the Jeep but he hates that - so he just imagines it, pulling Scott close by the back of his head and kissing the salt from his lips, rutting against him with -

“I can smell that,” Scott says, not opening his eyes. He’s smiling, and his hand finds its way to Stiles’ thigh. 

“Yeah, well, I can smell you too, and I’m not a werewolf,” Stiles says, flushed pink but not unhappy. “Should have showered before we left the beach, dude.” 

“Nah,” Scott laughs. “You like me better dirty.” 

Stiles groans, thankful to see the turn-off to Beacon Hills Preserve where their little campsite home is set up. 

“I like you better  _sleeping_ ,” he says, but he takes a minute to squeeze Scott’s hand before it has to go back on the gear shift. 

“Kinky.” Scott’s eyes open slowly, like a sunrise, and Stiles has to swerve a bit to stay in his lane. Is it distracted driving if there’s no deputy around to tell on him? He thinks not. 

“How would you know?” Stiles laughs, eyes already scanning for the side road that leads up to the overlook. “Your kink is like, being nice to people and returning library books on time.” 

“I never have to pay a fine,” Scott grins. “Which is pretty good, since I think yours is getting into trouble and then arguing your way out of it.” 

“Which means I never have to pay a fine either,” Stiles says triumphantly, making the turn a little faster than normal. Scott slips in his seat, sliding half into the space between them and bumping Stiles’ shoulder with his own. 

“In a hurry?” Scott asks, and Stiles steals a glance at his beautiful face, catches the smirk on it. 

“Yeah, well, you started talking about kinks, I decided I wanted to get home a little quicker,” Stiles shrugs, and it’s too real, but it’s also too good to ignore. 

“Well that’s good,” Scott says conversationally. “Maybe it’s better if we wait until we get back to finish this conversation. After all, I’d really hate for you to run off the road right after I told you how much I enjoy being spanked.”   
  
Stiles doesn’t wreck the Jeep. It’s a near thing. 


	12. Tethered, Anchored, Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes I get to go to class, but-" 
> 
> "Stiles.” Scott’s voice is fond even though the claws on his hands are most definitely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatthehalefire and I were talking about Scott being a pushover but only for Stiles, and she said: 
> 
> can you imagine one day, Scott’s going to be this completely badass alpha with a reputation for being practically ruthless and he has meetings with other packs and they expect this hardened werewolf and it first it’s kind of like that, but he’s also really courteous and sweet and then Stiles walks in whining about how there’s no chocolate left in the glove compartment and he’s bored and Scott’s like “We’ll stop by the gas station, Stiles, I’m kind of in the middle of something,” And Stiles’ is like “Oh, hey important supernatural people,” and proceeds to sit on Scott’s lap like he’s not in a freaking werewolf pack meeting and the other guys stare at them like this is the alpha that’s feared in every corner of the world? The guy who buys his human boyfriend chocolate and let’s him sit on his lap? Seriously? He’s a true alpha?
> 
> And that spawned this.

Wolfmoots are _boring_. The only reason Stiles even comes along is that he sure as hell isn't going to be left behind, but after sitting in the sun for five hours at a local roadside park, he's beginning to wish he'd gone to calculus. They've been arguing over territory all morning, Scott and Derek holding the line with compassion and grace, but the other pack constantly trying to move in. Apparently it's not just a land thing, either. Kent, the other pack alpha's second in command, has been staring at him all morning.

Not that Stiles cares. He has Scott, and no one else matters - which he's pretty sure he made clear by sitting basically in Scott's lap for the last hour and a half. 

When talks cease for a break, Stiles hops up to grab some himself some water. Maybe, if Scott’s lucky, Stiles’ll give him a drink, if only to watch him swallow and think about the way Scott’s throat had worked that morning when- 

“You know, you could do so much better,” Kent says as he wraps one arm possessively around Stiles’ hip, and it goes all over him, makes his face heat up with anger and his hands clench tight. 

“Better than _Scott_? I sincerely fucking doubt it.” He tries to move away, to hide his feelings behind a placid smile, but this douche won’t move, won’t stop  _touching_  him, crowding him against the water fountain where Stiles had been filling his bottle. Stiles’ skin crawls where the wolf’s breath touches him, hot and hateful against his neck, and then he feels the faint prickle of claws on his side and he hates it so fiercely, these hands that are not Scott’s all over him like he’s something to own, to conquer. 

Kent huffs next to his face, “That pup? That’s no Alpha. He’s all gums. He’ll probably apologize for getting his smell on you when I tell him I’m taking you with me." 

"Stiles doesn’t go anywhere without me,” Scott says from behind them, eyes blazing red and fangs crowding his mouth. 

“Sometimes I get to go to class, but-" 

"Stiles.” Scott’s voice is fond even though the claws on his hands are most definitely not. 

“Right-o, Scotty. If you’ll just, ah, excuse me, total creepy douchebag-” Stiles tries to slink out from between this random wolf and the water fountain, but Kent won’t move, so he’s stuck, flailing to keep his balance so he won’t fall back or to the side, but trying not to press forward because  _ohmygoddisgusting_. 

Kent’s face is still turned toward Stiles’ when he responds to Scott’s threat with a halfhearted, “If he’s yours, come take him from me.”

Stiles winces.

This is not going to be good. 

Within seconds, Kent is on the ground, Scott hovering over him with claws at his throat. Scott has both the wolf’s arms pinned with one hand, and his knee digs cruelly into Kent’s stomach. Stiles grins. He may even kick the guy a little, just the one time.

Okay, twice. 

“Stiles,” Scott says again, eyes dark and amused. 

“Scotty, this furry convention is completely boring and totally not what you said it would be. I want to go home. No. I want to go to Burrito Shack, and then I want to go home." 

"You know Burrito Shack always gives you a stomach ache, Stiles,” Scott argues, not even paying attention to how the wolf underneath him squirms and tries to move away from the threat of his claws. 

“It’s a good ache,” Stiles nods earnestly. “Besides, I’m starving. You kept me out here all day long. I am a growing boy, I need sustenance." 

Scott rolls his eyes but Stiles already knows he’s going to give in. "Fine. No belly rubs afterward though! You know what you’re getting yourself into here!" 

Kent's alpha rushes over and is watching their exchange with wide eyes. Scott turns to her, coldly furious and in control. 

"I suggest you keep your pack in line, Alpha Robinson, or there are going to be problems. If this one comes into my territory, ever, for any reason, you won’t be getting him back." 

"Of course, Alpha McCall,” the older woman says, eyes downcast. She looks confused, then. “We had heard… well, a True Alpha doesn’t kill." 

Scott dusts himself off as he stands up. "Oh, I don’t need to. Peter Hale’s my garbage collector.”

Alpha Robinson and her beta both shudder.

“You ready to go, Stiles?" 

As they walk back to the Jeep, Stiles cocks his head and murmurs, "You were kidding about no belly rubs, right?" 

Scott slips an arm around his waist, kisses his shoulder easily. "You know I can’t refuse you babe." 

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


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